Drama, drama, drama. My goodness. I feel like I'm constantly muttering that to myself. And man has today been FILLED with it.
While I was gone, my reorder of wedding invitations finally came in. So we dove into them last night and started addressing them, only to discover that the ink was black instead of silver. Realizing we have basically no time left to ship them back to the company and get replacements, I decided to settle and just fold away last night. Every time I folded the invitations, my heart sank. Black ink on beautiful champagne-colored paper. What a pity. Everything else had silver writing EXCEPT for our beautiful invitations. I decided to just call the company in the morning and see if anything could be done.
I called them this morning and PRAISE GOD, they're going to reprint the invitations today and send them overnight to us! They should be here tomorrow. Phew.
Then my day continued with two stories breaking over my head, my midterm internship review from my editor and a long day before school. (did that sentence make sense?) It was a crazy day and it's not over yet. Fortunately the stressful part is over and now I can go sit through my Alfred Hitchcock movie class. I always come out of there in a better mood, so I'm hoping that happens (not that my mood is terrible right now).
I was gone in Ensenada, MX over the Spring Break and though it was a lot of work and I got very little sleep, it was a great trip. It was wonderful to get to know some of the teens better and just interact with them and relax with them. It was also nice to spend time with the little ones and put gigantic smiles on their faces and illicit gut-giggles. Nothing better.
I'm about to say something slightly controversial, however. I loved Door of Faith (the orphanage), it was beautiful, however, I was slightly bummed at what great shape it was in and the amount of volunteers it received. That sounds odd, but let me explain.
I have experienced going into a Mexican orphanage before, but the other one was what you would expect an orphanage to be as opposed to what Door of Faith was. It was grey and cinderblock and the children were dirty and starved for attention. Door of Faith received tons of volunteers and receives lots of money from churches like mine and also Southern California churches which I'm sure are pretty well off. What's disappointing to me is I think of the orphanages that aren't Vineyard-oriented or affiliated and the probably hundreds that don't receive even half of the support as this orphanage and I wonder why we aren't serving there? Is it because it's convenient and we're used to this orphanage and we know the kids will like it? I don' t know, but I couldn't help but wonder if maybe the teens would have gotten more out of going to an orphanage that wasn't so well off. The kids at Door of Faith in essence have a family, as DJ has said. I know he's trying to train up other orphanages, which is great, but I don't know. I just see the faces of the kids I left behind two years ago at that cinderblock orphanage in Hermosillo and can't help but think "dang, these kids got the short end of the stick." So that's my feeling on the Door of Faith thing. It was a good experience though.
Gotta go to see Alfred. Hasta luego mis amigos!

Ode to the Sick Day

Sitting in my cubicle,
Feeling sorry for myself,
Watching the clock tick,
Wishing I were somewhere else.
At home my bed beckons me,
Covers still turned out,
And I slump tiredly in my chair,
Trying not to pout.

It's Friday and I'm sick,
Wishing to childhood I could return,
So the nurse could call my parents
And tell them my forehead burns.
My nose is runny,
My body achy,
I really shouldn't be here,
But I've been paid my wage,
And my boss looms near.
Gone are the glory days,
When a sniffle brought you home.
And an ache in your belly merited a nap,
On nice, cushy foam.
So here I am stuck,
Working diligently away,
Thinking back to yesteryear,
When there was such thing as a 'sick day.'

So wedding planning is going pretty well. I feel like it's just a lot of little things to manage now and every free moment I have, I've found myself calling or e-mailing and then getting to my homework or calling an interviewee to prep for a story I'm working on. More than anything else, I'm realizing I have to lean more on God in this time because, man, I suck. The busier I get, the more I realize that I can't handle what I think I can by myself. And that's where the wedding planning enters the equation.
I'm having to hand over several large projects to special people in my life, having to depend on them to get the details done in the way I would like them and in the time I would like them. I've had to have a lot of grace with one in particular, but prayer and just talking to God about these things has really made me a lot more giving and understanding and alleviated a lot of pressure off of the whole situation. I'd like to say that I'm a calmer person, that I don't worry anymore, but it's just not true. I've been watching several special people in my life worry on a constant basis and I see so much of myself in them, yet it's not something I want to continue doing.
The wedding planning time seems more than anything to be just sharpening me and making me see qualities in myself that are ugly at times and beautiful at others. I see the selfish part of me, the controlling, perfectionist part of me and then in other times I see the giving, patient, compassionate side of me that says that things don't have to be perfect, that no one will ever be completely satisfied with everything I do or with the decisions I make.
I know that God has a reason for making me feel so strongly about having my family at the "big event" and I see how he's doing that. I may not always pass with flying colors, but I can see Him working in me as I desire to honor him and the special people in my life in appropriate ways.

Free. jg-2/7/05
The equation doesn't add up,
The means to the ends,
Why I'm standing here,
Why he still defends.
All along he's been with me,
He's seen me through those times,
The times when I ran my own race,
The times I thought I'd won.
The false celebration and emptiness,
Seemed to leave me far behind,
And when I thought my maturity had saved me,
Only loneliness did I find.
He long chose me before I truly chose him,
The unknown conscience, the "little voice,"
And when I grew tired of hearing it,
I'd ignore it at my choice.
Past times seem so far away now,
Yet one step and they seem anew,
The battle rages on within me
To overcome what it can't undo.
I try to do it myself,
Twisting and pushing away,
But still the yeast rises,
Worse still when I pray.
The justifications, manipulations
They wear at the heart
Until my fighting is fleeting,
And it's broken all apart.
My crumbling body lays broken
Balled up on the ground,
Awaiting the gentle meekness
Of he that surrounds.
He chose me from among the crowd
And felt my softest touch,
The one he felt certain
The one he loved "that" much.
He took my blackness,
He took my pain,
He took my fighting and disdain.
He took my heartache,
He took my pride,
He revived that "me" deep inside.
Life's not perfect nor will it ever be
Because it's waiting to be set free.

Exactly one week until my first day of internship work at the Republic. More than anything I want this to go well and impress the socks off of someone over there so I can (maybe) get a job after college. I know it's a long shot, but I guess I just want to end up doing something I enjoy, you know? The Tribune is an option as well, but we'll see what happens.
On Sunday I ran the 1/2 marathon for the second year in a row and while my time wasn't as good (3 minutes slower) as last year, I'm just glad I did it. Hopefully I won't be as lazy next year and will train better.
School starts up on Tuesday, the 18th. I'll have had exactly one whole month off from school and regular part-time work. Part of me has really enjoyed this time off and I know I'll never get it again, and the other part of me is just so ready to get back into a routine. I'll be taking rock climbing, a theater class devoted to the works of Alfred Hitchcock, an advanced Spanish grammar class and a journalism class plus my internship job and my other part-time job. So I'll be a little busy doing that and planning the wedding, but I'm sure things will be fine.
One last note, keep my sister in your prayers. We just found out yesterday that one of her friends from work committed suicide and wasn't a believer. I think she's doing alright, but keep her in your prayers and keep his family in your prayers as well--I don't believe they're believers either.
That's about it for me. :)

I'm not sure if anyone reads my blog anymore, but in case you do, you'd know I applied for the Pulliam Fellowship a while back. Well, I found out I didn't get it, which is fine because I know there's a reason for it--maybe a real job with benefits? We'll see.
Aside from that, I have to work on finishing my final FINAL draft of my In Depth story by Friday I guess. Fabulous, huh? Just when I thought that nightmare was over---(by the way, she gave me an "A" in the class). Oh well, almost done.
Hope y'all had a great Christmas. I'm enjoying my break--two more weeks of it, actually--and trying to get more wedding stuff done. We finally did some registering at two places: Bed Bath and Beyond and Robinsons-May, which is equivalent to other stores like Foley's I guess. I'm getting more excited as each day draws us closer to "the big one," but am constantly reminded (by my sort-of wedding planner called "Mom") that I'm way behind and slacking, I guess. But I'm trying and that's all that matters. There's a thing I've learned in journalism that applies across the board---people NEVER call you back when you need them to. So, that said, I have to remain positive and keep trusting that God's going to take care of it. I'll keep working, but trusting, not stressing, as I sometimes have a tendency to do.
With that said, whew, many things to do, but I'm going to go read now--books I want to read, not have to read.
Hasta!
Jen

Never giving up j.g 1/5/04

Torrential. Teeming.
I walk in its midst.
Pounding. Relentless.
I run with everything.
I can feel it overwhelming
Feel it rising up.
But I can't keep it from engulfing
From ensuing in each step.

Insecurity; my frailty
Charges after my forward steps
Repressing. Containing.
Attacking my weakness.
Weary, though I try
To rage against this machine of mine
My good-fortune-time is up
No more hubris amid the muck.
Still not there, no longer can I be
Nor fit the shape molded for me.
I turn to my hope, away from my humanity
Stirring something deep inside of me
My eyes blinded, my soul freed,
How I wish this would last, an infinite reprieve.
But my tightened fist around my friend called hope
Slips slightly with each and every reproach.
I'm here, caught up in an inner shell
Yearning for a reprieve from this nit-picky hell.
Never my way, no, just not good enough
Go on and tire the senses
Just never giving up.

In ten days I'll be running my 2nd half-marathon--13.2 (I believe) miles. It's a long run and so far I think I'm kinda ready. My longest run so far has been 8 miles, which is substantially lower than what it should be, but if I'm at least up to 10 before the day of the race, I should be fine. Anyway, it's strange because for the first time EVER I am seriously lacking in the motivation department when it comes to exercising. I don't know why, but for some reason I got really really lazy over the fall semester--maybe it was all the running around I was doing during the day, I don't know, but hopefully I can get it back on track. On top of that, I need to to lose the weight I've actually gained over the semester. I've maintained my weight well through college because of regular exercise and this semester has been so bad that I've actually gained. Yikes. What's more frightening is how easy it was to do!
Anyone else lacking motivation? Maybe we could start a club and inspire one another? Or like iron sharpens iron....?
Jen

Hey all!
I know I sent out a forwarded message to some of you that read my blog, but I thought I'd post this also. One of our cartoonists at my university's newspaper just won an award for his cartooning through MTVU. Most of his stuff is really funny--Farside-ish. So if you like that kinda stuff-you should check out his site.
http://www.fminus.net/

Later!

Wow, it's been a little while since I wrote a lengthy entry on here. I really missed doing this. It seems like the only writing I've been doing lately has been for school papers or journalism assignments. Don't get me wrong, I love the journalism assignments and the papers aren't too bad either, but after a while I feel like I just need to purge my thoughts, you know? It's not the same thing to talk to someone about it. So many thoughts and feelings; it's time for a late-night session. (Well, it's not that late--10:40 pm)
On Friday I'll be heading back down to Tucson to see one of my very best friends graduate from UA. She's not "technically" graduated yet because she'll take another class next semester to finish her degree and she'll be running track, but NCAA finals will be in California when she's supposed to graduate (same time I'll be getting married, so she won't be there, unfortunately). I'm really looking forward to going down there and visiting her--I miss her sooo much! On top of that, I have missed Tucson a lot and though I've been preocuppied with school and such, it's still been on my mind. Granted, my friend Lynn isn't down there anymore (she was the other intern) and now she's back at Drake University in Iowa. We still keep in touch, but my mind flashes back to nights on the town, chats in the newsroom, laying out on rafts in the pool for hours, talking non-stop for a while and then just dazing at the sky for the rest. Man, it truly was a spectacular summer. I miss the bread/sandwich place (Beyond Bread), home of the very best sandwiches on the planet. I miss the coffee shop that's a few miles away from the office, just south of downtown, where they'd make you whatever kind of coffee you wanted and if you didn't like it, they'd make you another one; free of charge. If you were short on cash, they'd give you the drink or whatever and keep a running tab; pay it when you return, they'd say. So great.
I just love everything about that experience, aside from the fact that I couldn't bring my church and friends down there with me. It was my own individual life; make up my own schedule, do what I wanted to do, go to bed when I wanted, get home when I wanted--answer to no one. Not half bad. But I have to say that it still wasn't home, which I've realized since is not actually a place. It's a feeling.
I no longer live in Gilbert, the place where I grew up, yet everytime I go back and smell the dairies nearby (yah, sounds gross, I know) or run in the park where my numerous cross country meets were held, it still feels like home.
While I was in Tucson, and I still remember this distinctly, I felt like, well, not completely there. I remember being at the bar with my friends on the last night and though I was sad about leaving, I missed home. More specifically, Obadiah.
Okay, so I'm cheesy, but I'm serious. I felt alone in a crowd and though my happiness is not contingent on his presence, it certainly feels more like home when he's there. I could move anywhere, at any time; as long as he's there with me, I'll be happy.

I'm sure you've had enough of that, so, long story short, I'm still excited about revisiting my "old" "haunts."

Other side of the wall 12/15/04

Every night at eleven, she bathes them
On the other side of the wall
Yells bouncing off of the ceiling and into my room.
I remember the time I heard her screaming
At two in the morning
In the same place she bathes them.
I was afraid
For her
and the kids.
I scribbled in my notebook
Cradling the cordless in my hand and
Pressed the on button
The sounds stopped
And resumed again the next night
All over again I heard her screaming.
Again I scribbled.

I haven't heard her scream since
Though the kids continue banging around
On the other side of the wall.

It was the latter part of May. Towels, clothes and hangers were strewn about my room and it was dark outside. I could hardly contain my excitement.
She picked up and I practically squealed into the phone like a giddy 12-year-old girl who received her first phone call from the boy she liked. He had proposed.
She was excited, asked me to recount every minute detail from beginning to end, so I did.
A flower brought in one, by one. Words, notes, kneeling...yes! Big hug, shaky legs.
How was her family doing? I asked.
Her father had finally found a great job, one he liked much better than his previous and afforded him enough money and time to fix up the backyard of their new house. He was constructing a waterfall and was excited about it, she told me.
Mom wasn't so happy about moving in the first place, but she was getting used to it. She'd found a job in a dental office like her old job, my friend said.
Finally, things were stabilizing.
It was the beginning of June when I got the e-mail: call immediately.
Though early on a Sunday morning, I grabbed the phone.
What was wrong? Was she okay? What had happened that she'd write such a short note?
Bravely, through exhausted words, she told me.
Her dad had died suddenly the morning after we spoke in the latter part of May. Literally twelve hours after our conversation.
I wanted to fly to her rescue; hug her and cry with her, for her.
Unfathomable. My superman-dad had almost met the same fate just about three years earlier, but had survived.
It wasn't his time.
Now I sat in stunned, shocked, shaken silence. What could I say, do?
I called my mom and for the first time since finding out, tears spilled out as the words followed suit.
I left that day with mixed feelings.
Feelings that still haven't ceased.
How do I comfort? What do I say?
I pray for them; my friend and her mother.
It's been 7 months full of firsts; first Father's Day without him. First Thanksgiving without him.
Now it will be the first Christmas.
Such a joyous time for so many, yet I can't help but think of people in situations such as those my friend is experiencing, will experience.
Soldiers won't return home from battle. Loved ones will yet again grieve another year without someone special who perished in 9/11. In Iraq. In Afghanistan. In the Pentagon. On the streets and in the home.
At this time of year, when my mind becomes bogged down by gift receipts, credit card bills and numerous holiday responsibilities, it's also a time to reflect on the freedoms I have, the time that I, as well as my loved ones have, and what I can do to love someone else.
I love my friend and her mother very much. There's nothing else in the world that I'd like more than to help them get through the season, but I know there's really not too much I can do except pray for their comfort and continue to be open to my friend to talk to. I wonder how many others are coping with this sense of helplessness and just the feeling of uselessness.

jr prayer 12/15/04

It's quiet Lord, outside
the darkness has settled over the
sun. And now I'm here thinking,
praying for someone.
I know she knew you at some time,
Even sought your direction and was
so close. Now she's struggling,
needing medication and doctor visits
just to get through the day.
You're there to heal the sick, the broken
and the bruised. You're there to comfort the hurting,
ease the pain of the abused.
Lord, come now, with your arms open-stretched
To hold each one that grieves, openly
Empty on this night, this day.
Remind them you would never give them
more than they can bear. That you desire
to bring them through their loss,
bring them through the nightmare.
I know You are here
and You are there.


(As I believe God said--'it is finished')

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Man, I have a headache. Stress and finals; crazy days. Oh my.
So that's me right now. More importantly, please pray for Obadiah. He's got a terrible TERRIBLE cold right now. He's had a massively sore throat, has felt sick to his stomach and just weak. He always goes to work, no matter how sick he feels, but this illness was bad enough. Anyway, he'll probably still be feeling rotten through the weekend, but keep him in your prayers. As for me, pray that my health continues to be good because I have three more class days, and several finals and papers. Almost there!
Anyhoo, more later.

So not all of my "to dos" have been finished yet, but many have. I turned in my Pulliam Journalism Fellowship papers and am psyched about that. Just a tad late, but the deadline was extended. I'm also very excited because yesterday I found out that I won a prize in a Hearst Journalism contest. Basically, journalism students from all over the nation submit entries into categories like "in depths," "breaking news," and "features." Mine was my Asperger's Syndrome story from last fall and it won 9th place out of 105 entries. I get a $500 scholarship from them and a $500 grant goes to my journalism school also. Pretty cool. But the coolest part is I found out that getting a Hearst award is the college equivalent of what a Pultizer is to a professional journalist. So it carries weight.
I called my journalism mentor soon after I found out and she said she wanted to e-mail the guy who hired me at the Republic and tell him the good news. So she did and he said he'd put the info in my file. According to my mentor, the Hearst is almost a better ticket into a job than even the Pulliam Fellowship. We'll see what happens, but that was pretty cool...
T-minus 24 hours until I dig into yummy turkey and mashed potatoes. How exciting is that? Okay, not so exciting, but it'll be good food. I'll be spending my first Thanksgiving away from my family and instead with Obadiah's. It should be pretty interesting.
We have a busy BUSY weekend ahead of us. So here's my "to do" list...

Thursday
1. 9 a.m- 10K race (Turkey Trot)--that's about 6 miles for the non-runner...
2. 1 p.m.- Thanksgiving begins in the West Valley with Obadiah's family

Friday
1. Morning-Time to figure out exactly where we're going to register for our wedding
2. Buy bridal shower gift for friend Annie
3. Noon- meet photographer for rescheduled photo session
4. 2 p.m.-scrapbook with Mom

Saturday
1. Paint the hallway in the house
2. 3-5 p.m.-Bridal Shower for friend
3. 8 p.m.-Deadline for SPM article

Sunday
Church
Homework?

Fun fun. But life will begin to wind down here soon, thankfully. Love y'all and Happy Thanksgiving! Say a prayer for our troops and thank our Lord for all the great things He's given us!

Ahh, the "to do" list-Sounds like fun (hah!). Everybody else is doing it, so I guess I will too...

1. Read "Antigona furiosa" (Spanish play)
2. Read critiques of Antigona furiosa (in Spanish)
3. Write Spanish paper on Antigona furiosa-due tomorrow (dang the on-line library for not having the info I needed in time!)
4. Call Cindi and organize time to have her and Ashley try on bridesmaid dresses
5. Read Chicano Studies book
6. Do Chicano Studies assignment for tomorrow
7. Study for Spanish test (which is tomorrow as well, of course)
8. Talk to cops for tips in upcoming article
9. Call the caterer and check on the table covers
10. Call Hannah (obie's sister) and see if I need to take over flower pot project
11. Find more sources for NAFTA article (due Monday)
12. Start Chicano Studies paper (due Tuesday)
13. Take Trevor to RE class
14. Go running
15. Copy articles for Pulliam Journalism Fellowship application
16. Find a picture of myself for same application and copy it
17. Get 3rd recommendation to send in with application
18. Send all materials
19. Check into what I'm going to do to make money over the break
20. Pay the rest of my Mexico trip money
21. Finalize guest list (find out who's planning on coming)
22. Order invitations
23. Make informal announcements for others?
24. Shop for engagement photo session clothes (Thursday)
25. Pick up wedding dress (Sunday)
26. Figure out wedding hair (more practice...)
27. Talk with Republic and figure out Spring internship info.
28. (Misc. things that are bound to come up unexpectedly...)

Oh how I love this weather!!! It's funny because yesterday I was at church and it was all cloudy outside and I could feel myself growing more hyper by the moment. I don't know if it had to do with the homemade frappaccino I was drinking or the fact that it was rainy, but I lean toward the weather factor, personally. It's great!
This morning I was reading in Habukkuk and I was also thinking about a conversation my dad and I had last week. The book talks about Mr. Hab and his vision and talking with God about using evil nation, Babylon to punish Judah (I think that's right) and how terrible the city is; conquering other nations for wealth and on and on. It's a little freaky to think that the U.S. could go down just the same... What would life be like not being on top.
Alrighty, I gotta get going. Lots to do--I have a big interview today for my cover story, a few other phone calls to make for my other stories and other fun homework things to do.

Thursday, November 4th--Two days after Election Day

My media law professor wore black today. Not just a black shirt or shoes--EVERYTHING. His silk tie, which was normally a pallet of colors, was pure black.
He was in mourning. The Daily Show fan had talked ambiguously and sometimes outright about "Dubya" all semester. He said he'd be rejoicing on Thursday if the "righ man" was elected. Today, he was in mourning.
He showed us the Daily Mirror's cover. The London tabloid's face read "how can 59 [million] people be so dumb?" with a picture of our president waving. Clearly, my professor was in agreement. As were many of my fellow-students and my Chicano Studies professor. The girl in my Chicano Studies class, the one who asked us all to register to vote, still had Kerry-Edwards political buttons all over her knapsack.
My media law professor said he doesn't have enough black to wear for four years. The lawyer I worked with on Election Day said she'd move to Canada. The girl in my Ultimate Frisbee class said she couldn't even respect or accept the reelection of President Bush.
Through all of his, all I could think of was "get over it." It's true, I would have been disappointed if Kerry had been elected, however, I would have said "okay; the people have spoken."
I just hope that this hatred against our President subsides and that people will grow up a little and make a difference in the areas they feel are important. Move on and accept it.

Hey Kids!
Hope you're planning on voting or already did. Depending on when you're reading this, it's close to or is Election Day! I'll be working the polls from 5:30 a.m. until 10 a.m. so wish me luck! It'll be very interesting to see and I'll be pretty groggy. Think I'll stop by Starbucks for a Mocha Frappaccino Light--mmmm....
Hasta! Keep the election in your prayers!

So I'm back in the groove of things again. Only took about four days. I had to take a Spanish exam today and I have to still check out how I did on my Media Law test--I'm sure it's horrible. Quite possibly that was the worst test I've taken, and not because it was hard or anything, it was because I was completely unprepared after being swallowed whole by the Presidential Debate monster and other journalistic deadlines. So a test suffered and we'll see how miserably very soon I'm sure. But the Spanish exam faired much better and my essay, which I thought would be a C, turned out to be a B+. Go figure...
And so goes school. I just preregistered for my last semester and here's how the schedule should go: Advanced Spanish Grammar and a class on Alfred Hitchcock films on Monday nights, Rock climbing and Precision Journalism on Tuesdays and Thursdays and just Advanced Spanish Grammar on Wednesday evenings. I'm counting on getting a paid internship so I can fill the other three credits and hopefully get a foot in the door for a job after college. I'll be interviewing for that later on in the month.
Other fun things: today I signed up to help out at the polls on Tuesday the 2nd from 5:30 in the morning until 10 a.m. Part of me is wondering what possessed me to do it, but then the other half knows the motivation--Extra credit; 30 points of it in my Chicano Studies class to be precise. Hey, I'm not going to complain and yes, I know I'm perfectionist geek. It's my only class where the "+" grade is being used. So basically if I can get an A+ in that class, it will seriously help another class--like Media Law! I'm gonna go for it, I mean, what do I have to lose? Anyway it'll be a good experience and something to tell the kids about some day. "Not only did the President of the U.S. speak at my college when I was a senior, but I also helped out at a polling site on the day of the election" I imagine myself telling my kids. I hope I get to tell them it was the year President George W. Bush was reelected...
So that's my story for the day. I'm off for more homework and maybe a little time with my fiance--only 6 months and 19 days left!!!!

Last day in Mexico...

My eyes memorized the streets, the smells, the sounds. "Jesthers," a pasteleria in downtown Monterrey, was buzzing with customers. The store window displayed an endless array of round, white wedding cakes, topped by faux flowers or princess-like girls in colored dresses.
The smell of fresh donuts invades my nostrils the second I step foot through the door. Rows and rows of Mexican pasteries fill a stand in the middle of the shop.
Horacio Montemayor works the counter taking pesos from his customers who fade out the door with bags of empenadas. They're the few that still regularly come. The rest have moved on to American-owned businesses like WalMart, which stock their shelves with Sara Lee ready-made cakes and pies. It's cheaper there and, in some cases, more convenient.
Montemayor's shop boasts "The best quality and the best prices" on small, color-printed business cards. The small bakery is even on the Web.
With profit slowly declining as customers dwindle, Montemayor worries about his childrens' educational futures. How will he pay for college for the 17-year-old and what about the others who are approaching teen-hood?
I thank him for his time and slip out the door, past the old man selling cigarettes and gum, which are haphazardly perched on milk crates. A bus meanders by, leaving a plume of dark brown smoke in its wake. The familiar neon-green taxis whiz by, dodging through traffic.
I stick my arm out with my index finger pointed, the signal most use to hail a taxi. A bright green Volkswagon bug pulls beside the curb and I lean against the window and say "Por favor, al hotel Holiday Inn Express Tecnologico en Avenida Garza del Sur---cuanto cuesta?"
"Treinta pesos" he answers, and I open the door.
Hot air flows through the car from the open windows as the bug turns the corner to leave the downtown area. I think of Montemayor and "American progress" in the world abroad. He's not sure what the future holds, I recall him telling me. Right now he's focused on the things WalMart can't give its customers, like personal attention and relationship. It's the universal conflict in business: big brother corporations putting small entrepreneurs out of business; and, in Mexico's case, sometimes taking local tradition and culture with it.
I don't know what to think, but I see both sides of the equation. Maybe it's the journalist in me.
"Derecho," I tell the driver as he asks me where to go as we reach the intersection near the freeway. My American hotel is straight ahead.

La noche en el Barrio Antiguo

The cathedral stretches skyward in the midnight darkness, and a blue neon cross atop the steeple of the centuries-old church guides us down the street to the discotecas. American music and 20-somethings stream from inside the stone edificios. Hot dog vendors greet civilians, gesturing toward the stacks of bright red meat, covered in cheese and bacon. Some of the students in our group catch a whiff of the Mexican specialty and open their wallets and retrieve their pesos. One of my companeros warns them: you shouldn´t eat those, you´ll get sick. He´s been to Ecuador for two years and Costa Rica for a few months, he should know.
The uneven sidewalks remind me of summertime nights in Nogales, near la frontera. I´m watching my group and watching my steps all at the same time, caught up in the life of the city´s center. My words are few, while my thoughts are many. Oh how I love this.
Native tongue whizzes by my ears. I catch a few of the words. Just enough to taste the conversation. But I fall back into my own bubble as we make our way down the street, dodging other groups or random vendors.
Nueva Luna. No charge for the girls, but 80 pesos for the guys. A better rate than the other place that was charging 150 pesos for each person. According to one of the local college guys, it´s a preppy place--similar to Scottsdale, we assume.
The stage already has a band playing a mix of Spanish-language music. A small group of revelers sway to the salsa beat and I can´t help but sway mine a bit as we make our way upstairs to a large table. In no time, la cerveza is flowing and a bowl-like glass full of strawberry margarita is placed in front of me. It´ll be the only drink for me.
We´re dancing and drinking, simultaneously. Other patrons watch us and I wonder if they´re laughing at our gringo moves or just staring because we´re different. Either way, we ignore it and laugh and dance for hours.
Another band comes on. They cover Maroon 5 and Black Eyed Peas and most of us (the girls) make our way down stairs to dance. A smile was plastered to my face the rest of the night. Dancing, Spanish-language music, friends and margaritas--what a great night. The only thing that would´ve topped it off would have been my fiance dancing with me--but then again, I don´t think he would´ve danced with me anyway. He´s not a fan. And Spanish-language music is not all that great to him either...
A huge bill, few companeros que estaban borrachado later, and we´re leaving the club to go to another. We end up in a gay club. A man offers the girls beers and tequila, but we decline. Don´t know where it came from or what was in it. We leave about 20 minutes after we get there.
Our night ends in a plaza full of smaller clubs. The plaza, que se llama Zocolo, is packed with college-agers and near closing time. The music only reignites my energy and I dance to "Hey ya," and "It´s my perogative"--more American music.
We´re on our way home in the bright green taxi, which zips in and out of traffic, through "suggested" street lanes. We pass the Applebees, the McDonalds, the Chilis and finally arrive at our hotel, the Holiday Inn Express de Tecnologico. Americanization at its finest.
Monterrey: a new Mexico in my eyes, but not one that feels so far from home, unfortunately. My heart still longs for la frontera...

The day before the debate: on campus at ASU

Adorned in "Kerry Edwards" stickers, holding small, blown up balloons of a long-nosed "Bushnoccio," Kerry supporters rally around a CNN stage, hollering at the top of their lungs. "Crossfire" is being filmed.
Across campus, the Student Service Building's lawn is peppered with small white crosses, depicting the lost lives of American soldiers in the Iraq war. Stuffed animals are sporadically placed among the white sea. In contrast, a long piece of bunched cloth lines the sidewalk. It's filled with glass beads and a sign nearby says "each bead represents the life of an Iraqi civilian lost in the war."
While ASU might have been dubbed "active" several months ago by a magazine that encourages protest and activism, the scene today is far from the norm. Has the fervor been ignited solely because we're now in the limelight of national television cameras? Or is it just the excitement of having the two biggest names in the nation coming to our campus?
A sorority girl in my Spanish class wears the Kerry sticker on her left breast. Is she aware of the candidate's stances or is she just following what the rest of her girl friends are doing?
I've seen anger in the impassioned eyes of each group's followers. I've heard obscenities hurled. I've been smacked over the head with political ideologies of my media professors. Fox News: bad. John Stewart: good.
I'm a minority, it seems, on this campus. I have no plumage of "W" posters nor do I leave my opinions in the ears of others. They ask who I'll vote for and I'm truthful. The man who I feel I can most trust, and on this campus, the political underdog, so it seems. They shake their heads and smirk. Man, she doesn't have a clue, they must think to themselves.
Streets will be closed tomorrow. I pray that I'll be able to park in the structure I paid so much money for so that in the evening, I can ask our university's president "was it worth it? Did the debate change your mind?"
"Who are you going to vote for in the upcoming election?"
I'm sure he'll try to avoid the question. Maybe comment that both candidates did exceptionally well, that the university did a fabulous job of pulling this off and it will once again show the world that ASU is an institution that's not all about making the top ten list of the biggest party schools in the nation. No, if anything he will turn to me and say "this is one of the greatest universities in the nation and now they'll all know it."
But things aren't always as they seem, Mr. Crow. Ask the girl in my Spanish class to compare the immigration policies of the two candidates. Ask the avid Kerry supporter with his oversized sign what his candidate of choice's plan for Iraq is or how Kerry will really take care of taxes or the deficit. Ask them. Do they know? Or is it all a fascade with a bandwagon appeal backed by a stick on a slippery slope.
Sure we look good, Mr. Crow. We've had two years to prepare for this day.